After Dragonborn: Chapter 1
by mg1999
Summary: The excelling adventures of Nord Hodlin hits off as he starts his journey into the depths of Skyrim's holds to find the secrets of the amulet left by his uncle who was the Dragonborn.


It would seem that Tamriel has finally restored peace- With the collapse of the dragon uprise and the unification of the now Stormcloak centralized Skyrim, it was almost as if their times of upheaval was coming to a close. However their period of non promising solidarity was reaching abrupt turmoil as chaos formed in the streets of the quiet town of Riverwood.

During most days of mourning, people of this quaint village would spend hours at their beloved's gravestone. Yet this day was remarkably peculiar. Despite being the first _Morndas_ of Mid Year, news from Skyrim's capital Windhelm brought everyone into a strange form of grief, that was hard for rookie adventurer Hodlin to cusp. Gripping a letter in his hand, He stood motionless as he approached the Riverwood Trader before him. He didn't quite know what to say as he would greet his aunt rumoured to be behind that door. From his forehead a sliver of sweat curved by his brow, and his heart raced. He absolutely knew that this intrusion wasn't the right time, but this was an opportunity that he was not willing to let go.

Hodlin folded up the letter after repeating his aunt's name in his head and he started for the entrance of the shop. He gripped the handle of the heavy door and turned it weakly, not knowing what to expect as he would infiltrate. Yet to his astonishment, His aunt sat with an unexpected smile upon her face as she rocked in the chair across from the Riverwood Trader booth. She raised her chin to look to Hodlin, and a sudden change of emotion altered her face. "The Trader is temporarily closed, I'm afraid," she claimed as her voice cracked through the pain.

He shut the door behind him and removed his hood. "Aunt Camilla," he whispered loud enough for her to comprehend. He briskly avenged her and grasped her tiny weak hands.

Camilla, speechless, quickened her breathing and placed her palm on her nephew's recently shaved cheek. It was as if she forgot the nord's name as he bowed before her on his knees. However she gasped as his name came to her mind. "Hodlin?" She questioned in disbelief.

Hodlin nodded, smiling as his aunts tears were forming again. "By the eight," she feebly sang. She rose to embrace her last live family member and kissed the top of his head, feeling a wrath of jubilancy as he positioned himself in their act of alleviation. "If only your uncle could see his only nephew."

He grew silent when he remembered the fate of his uncle. Trembling from this array of emotion, Hodlin turned to the absence of activity behind him. "Uncle Roren sent word for me before his death… forgive me, I had forgotten that all of Skyrim is in agony under his name."

Camilla tried not to think too much about her deceased husband. "He sent for you?"

From his leather torso he removed the letter from his front pocket. He carefully handed the note to her, hoping Roren's words wouldn't cause much more sadness. She glanced to her nephew then to the letter, peeling the folds open nimbly. " _Dear Hodlin_ ," she read aloud. " _I write to you for my bloodline lies to you. I am dying, young Hodlin. Yet I still have unfinished business that needs to be attended to. My dear wife Camilla who will flee to Riverwood when I pass has the Amulet of Dragonborn in my name. For each dragon I have killed, their soul has been intertwined with my own. The same technology resides within the amulet- when I die the souls and mine are absorbed by the stone creating a magical binding power. The magic of the dragonborn cannot end. I am giving you the amulet so you can continue my line of work. When you receive it, your first mission is to flee to the Thieves Guild to get translations of the amulet by the last known Khajiit in Skyrim named Fawness. I would give you them myself however such words cannot be written on paper, and I trust Fawness with such a matter as this one. Once the directions are translated, you must complete the tasks to obtain my powers… Thank you my dear nephew. And may the dragonborn legacy live on."_

There was a long pause from Camilla as she folded the letter back together.

"Why must the dragonborn live on?" Hodlin demanded as he leaned against the trading booth. He suddenly stood up as Camilla removed the amulet from her neck.

"Hodlin," She whispered. "Roren's death brought much tragedy to Tamriel. But you must understand that you have to pick up where he left off. Roren died too young to let down his people." She gently wrapped the amulet of Dragonborn around her nephew's neck, Looking into his eyes as he felt his own audacity form. "You must be careful as you flee through Skyrim's lands."

There was a knock at the door that drove Camilla to the entryway. She signalled Hodlin to place the amulet underneath his blouse and she opened up the door to see a Whiterun guard standing in the doorway. She gulped not knowing what the matter was. The guard removed his helmet. "Lady Camilla," He said calmly. "We gather grievous news from the High King."

Camilla shook her head, choking on her words. "What news could possibly be more grievous than the death of my husband?"

The guard placed his helmet back upon his head and exhaled grimly. "Jarl Ulfric, High King of Skyrim declares that you are charged with the murder of Lord Roren." He removed the iron sword from his sheath and robotically obeyed his ruler's orders.

Camilla frowned in disbelief, mocking the claim of the capital by chuckling nervously. "Lord Roren was killed through illness. Do you really believe that his own wife in which loved him very much would pull such treachery?"

The Guard inched the blade closer to her breast. "You have high bounty on your hands. I doubt you would wish to make it rise."

Hodlin gasped in anger as he walked closer to the situation. "How dare you accuse her, on the day of his death, of killing her own husband. What evidence do you even have?"

Parting from the crowd of people behind the guard, forming through their listening of the commotion, was a tall emaciated nord with short windswept dark hair and a long scowling face, both aristocratic and soulless. He wore a black tunic with a pelt scarf, tilting his angular face to the side in disbelief. "We have all the evidence we need," he cooed like a raven.

Forming in Camilla's eyes was a gust of betrayal. "That's the doctor that came to Roren's aid." She wanted to sob but she knew that firmer accusations would be pressed at her if she showed signs of heavy emotion.

The Whiterun Guard entered the Riverwood Trader slowly, Camilla backing up with the threat of the blade. "Doctor Brandrel found a Dwarven Poison at Roren's bedside. It has side effects of sickness that slowly worsen to death. What do you say in your defense?"

Camilla finally began to cry. "That's preposterous!"

"We also found a letter from a potential client who must have sold you the poison."

She started to clench her fists as she repetitively shook her head, reassuring him that she was indeed innocent. "Will there be a trial?"

The guard nodded impatiently. "I am sorry lady Camilla but we must escort you to Windhelm. You are charged with death if proven guilty."

Hodlin felt the temptation to fight off the rally of guards. But deep inside he knew he had to abide by the contents of the letter. Camilla was subjected to death if there was no evidence to protect her. If he would fight back he could face a life behind bars. Camilla looked over her shoulder to Hodlin as she submitted herself, the guard binding her wrists. "Hodlin," she spoke as her mouth turned slowly upside down, trying to fight the urge to cry in front of all of the villagers. "Do as you were told." She then eyed Hodlin's chest where the amulet laid beneath his blouse.

Hodlin felt a displeasuring essence overflowing his mentality. "Camilla-"

"Now Hodlin!" Camilla lightly stopped to say one thing more to him. She looked down then to Hodlin and her iris' drowned in despair. "I will not die in the name of this lie."

He then watched as she was dragged into the streets still in her mourning clothes, and Hodlin was dumbfounded for what he was to face next. He held the amulet in his palm. "What would you do, uncle?" He then waited in the Trader before he set out for the Thieves Guild.


End file.
